


Hero Complex

by nancersBRO



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Harry has a lot of sex, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, eighth year cliches, romione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancersBRO/pseuds/nancersBRO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's still saving people. Draco doesn't know it yet, but he's going to save the savior. <br/>Basically a lot of Harry being lonely, and obsessed with Draco (of course). As many 8th year cliches as I can possibly pack into a fic and a lot of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry's Still Saving People

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is probably gonna be an emotional roller coaster with a lot of sex so hold on guys. I'm gonna see how many 8th year cliches I can possibly put in here while keeping everyone as in character as possible. Let me know what you think XO!

The war is over. But where is Harry without a dark lord to defeat, qudditch to play, a snarky blonde to argue with? So maybe the war is over. But Harry Potter is still saving people. He thinks it’s because if someone risks their life to save you, then your whole life is saving people. When hasn’t that been his whole life. When hasn’t he had the whole world on his shoulders? When wasn’t he someone’s only hope? Ron and Hermione, they have each other. He wouldn’t say the war brought them together exactly, they were always gonna end up together, even if they didn’t see it. Now Harry was still saving people, in a different way. It started with Ginny, who’d once told Harry, “There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for.” When the funerals started they fell into each other’s embrace every night. It made the unusually quiet spirits and somber faces at the burrow much more bearable. Ginny smelled like cinnamon. She had hair as fiery as her spirit. Something so colorful in a world full of gray. And now there were no “stupid, noble reasons” to keep him from going to her bed every night. He couldn’t stand the way she shook when she cried in the night. He just wanted to kiss the tears away. She put on such a hard exterior. She was soft when he’d fucked her. But after those first few nights it stopped feeling right. Ginny could tell something had changed. She’d cried again. But Harry Potter was still saving people. He just wanted to get her through this. The nights got longer, it got hotter as the makings of summer set in, and Ginny Weasley got stronger. She didn’t need Harry to save her anymore. They cried together one more night. Harry because he wanted to love her, wanted everything to fall into place after the war, wanted things to be simple. Ginny because she’d wanted Harry to love her, wanted to be able to offer what he didn’t yet realize he needed, and because she knew she needed to be strong once again. And they’d all cried for Fred that night, the last funeral they’d have to attend was approaching as the sun was rising.


	2. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Make me forget, Harry"  
> How could he not accept the tongue in his mouth. How could he not help soothe that desperate voice? He was still saving people after all.

The sun was steadily rising, painting the sky with blending hues of violet and orange. It was going to be sunny day. Clear and nice. Fred would have wanted it that way.  
Fred. The very thought of the name hurt George to his inner core. Fred who died with the makings of a laugh on his oh-so familiar face. His perfect, beautiful face. Fred who was his other half. Who could understand you better than your twin? They were born together and did everything together from day one. But here he was, alone. Lost.  
The mood was kept as light as possible today. Everyone had something to say, a story to tell, a joke. Their favorite Weasley twins legends. No special stories of just Fred though. Only George could’ve shared moments like those. But, he didn’t. He couldn’t. For once George Weasley had nothing to say. He stood shaking with magical energy only achieved by extremely high emotion. No one doubted who this funeral was the hardest on. George was the last to approach his coffin. He patted it, only managing to get out an, “I’ll miss you Freddy.” Before hearing his voice break and stepping away. No one could resist crying after a single lonely tear landed on Fred’s coffin. He was lowered into the ground. Fred was gone.  
At the reception, George was gone. Molly was terribly worried. Harry felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t stay there any longer. He promised Molly he’d find George.  
Apparating still made a knot of his stomach, but Harry calmed his nerves on the walk through Diagon Alley. He had an idea where George would be.  
“All right there, George?”, Harry asked, stepping into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. He watched the taller ginger grimace and look up from behind the counter where he was crouched with a bottle of Ogden’s finest. “I will be. Care fir a dr-drink.”, George replied already slightly slurring his words. Harry hopped over the counter and sat on the floor next to George who leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Sure, mate.”, Harry took a swig off the bottle, enjoying the warmth in his belly. He took another big swig enjoying the fogginess in his head, before handing the bottle back to George. “How’d ya know you’d find me here?”  
“Well I dunno, I just did. Figured you’d come here. Molly’s worried sick though.” George flinched, and Harry felt bad because George didn’t need to worry about anything else today. George looked troubled for a moment as if fighting back tears before responding. “I know. I know. I just, it’s so hard, Harry.” George let out broken sob that tore Harry’s heart. “I’m so alone now.” And Harry couldn’t take it because nobody deserved to feel like that. Nobody should have to cry anymore. He put his arm around George, who fell into the embrace, sobbing even harder. Harry pulled him close whispering, “You’re not alone, George. I’m right here.” George stared into Harry’s eyes then, with a look he’d seen on his own face many times before. It was a look of loss, of complete hopelessness. It was the same look he’d seen on Ginny before he used to kiss it away. And maybe it was the alcohol in their systems, or maybe it was because he’s Harry Potter, and he’s never stopped saving people, or maybe it was the way George leaned his head towards Harrys so hopeful, so expectant, that made him lean down just so, and press his lips to George’s. He heard the gasp on his lips before George melted into the kiss, pushing back against Harry’s torso with equal pressure. Harry pulled away for a moment, noting the look of panic in George’s face that he was sure mirrored his own. He wiped Georges tears with the corner of his sleeves, and pulled the taller man back towards him until George was straddling him, and kissing him fiercely. It was messy and desperate. Harry swept his tongue over George’s bottom lip asking for entrance that George willingly gave. Harry wasn’t awkward, and fumbling around as he’d been his first time with Ginny. He was surprised at how nonchalant he was, and how his body was responding. George grinded against Harry and they could feel each other’s hardening lengths. Harry deepened this kiss, grabbing a hold of that fiery red hair he liked so much. Harry thinks he might like it better when the person he’s kissing is firm, all hard lines and strong shoulders. He doesn’t dwell as George moves his hand to the waist of Harry’s pants, and he follows suit, undoing George’s belt. They’ve got their hands around each other’s pricks and Harry can barely get out an, “Oh merlin”, before him and George are jerking each other, fast and hard. Harry comes first biting his lip so hard he tastes blood. He puts his focus in vigorously fucking George with the tight ring of his fist. He doesn’t question it when George moans Fred’s name as he paints Harry’s hand with his spunk. He doesn’t say a word when George breathes out a shaky, “fuck Fred”, without realizing it. He just mutters a spell to clean them both up, fixes himself back into his pants, and takes another swig of the bottle. George fixes himself back into his pants as well, redoing the belt. “Harry I...” But Harry only shushes him. Only pulls him into a tight hug and kisses his lips again. “It’s okay.” And George gives him a knowing smile, blinking back fresh tears.  
They arrive back at the burrow when its dark. They’re still slightly tipsy, and Molly is the only one awake. She’s sitting at the table wringing her hands and her eyes are puffy. She breathed a loud sigh of relief at seeing Harry and George come in. “Well look who it is! I almost had a search party out for you two!” There was no real threat behind her words though. She sounded so broken. Harry and George immediately went to hug her. “We’re sorry Molly, just talking and getting some air and all.” She seemed to accept his excuse, and George gave him a grateful look at not having to answer. Molly gives them one last hug before heading upstairs.  
The two men follow a few moments later. Harry isn’t surprised when George pulled him into the room he used to share with Fred. The first night was always the hardest, and Harry knew it’d be no different for George. They stripped off their shirts and pants, laying together in just their underwear. Harry pulling George’s back against his chest. He waits until George’s shoulders stop shaking, before letting some tears of his own fall. Harry Potter was always saving people. He let his thoughts wander. Was he gay? What was he doing? He cared a lot about George, he knew what George needed. He didn’t dwell too much on it before falling into a fitful sleep.  
He awoke with warm, wet heat around the head of his cock, and opened his sleepy eyes to see the silhouette of George’s head begin bobbing up and down. “Fuck.” George hummed around the base of his extremely hard cock, making Harry shiver. He was getting a blowjob in the middle of the night from a grieving George Weasley. His mind could barely process anything but the feeling of George’s tongue licking up and down his length before hollowing out his cheeks, sucking from the base to the head. Before he knew it he was once again pulling at George’s hair and coming down his throat. George pulled away with a pop, swallowing all of Harry’s semen. “George.” “Harry.” Harry looked down and noticed how hard George was and pulled him in for a kiss, tasting himself on the other man’s tongue. “I just want to forget Harry.” “I know.” Harry jerked him to completion again. Another murmured spell and they both drifted off for a few more hours. George knew he felt so comfortable with Harry because he’d know better than anybody how this loss felt. Harry didn’t want George to know the feeling at all.  
After the first night, it happened a few more times. Harry would wake up with George pleading him, “Make me forget.” Harry was all too compliant. A few more weeks went by, and it didn’t feel right anymore. He was so numb all the time, and helping George get through this kept him from having to face his own feelings. But now it seemed like it was happening all over again. Harry would wake up realizing George had slept through the night, and that he didn’t need Harry that way anymore. That he’d soon be sleeping alone again because if he wasn’t helping someone, he didn’t want to put the through the burden of needing to be held. Loved by nearly the entire wizarding world, but so easily, Harry Potter felt alone.  
George doesn’t argue when Harry doesn’t follow him to bed the next night.


	3. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes widened comically as he read the name on the back of the letter. Malfoy?

The second half of the summer is made up of trials. Harry declines many of them at Hermione’s urging. Her and Ron are helping him sort all of the letters from the countless owls that arrive daily. Though it’s gotten a lot easier now since they’ve put wards around the Burrow.   
A collective sigh could be heard from inside the living room of the Burrow as Ron, Harry, and Hermione were growing weary of letter sorting. “Hey why don’t we go get some drinks? Take a break?”, Ron suggested hopefully. Hermione tried to give him a stern look, but she could tell they all needed to get out. Harry and Ron stared at her expectantly until she huffed an “Oh all right. But we definitely need to finish this up when we get back.” Before they prepared to leave another owl came. This one a familiar eagle owl. It looks almost like the one Malfoy used to get every week carrying packages of sweets, thought Harry in the back if his mind. It couldn’t be though. Hermione took the letter giving the owl a treat. She looked down at the name of the sender and Harry saw Ron blanch looking over her shoulder. “What? What is it?” He looked down at the letter as Hermione placed it into his waiting hands, eyes going comically wide as he read the name, Malfoy.   
They walked into the Leaky Cauldron, Harry still clutching the letter. None of them said a word until they were seated at the most secluded corner table they could find. After ordering three butterbeers, Hermione finally spoke up, “Well Harry, what does it say?”   
“I-It’s from Narcissa Malfoy. Her, well actually, their trials are coming up and I guess she thinks I could help. She’s asking me to testify for her and her son, and against Lucius Malfoy.”   
“Has she gone mad? Testify for the Malfoys?”, exclaimed Ron before Harry abruptly stops him. “I’m gonna do it.”, he states with determination. Ron and Hermione both stare, confusion evident on their faces. “Lucius Malfoy is an awful, slimy git who deserves Azkaban, and if I can help to put him there, I’ll do it. Narcissa saved my life in the war. She lied to Voldemort all so she could save me and make sure her son was safe. She doesn’t deserve Azkaban. And Draco well you know.”, Harry stops now, hoping for a change of subject but knowing his friends aren’t ready to let him off that easy. “And Draco what?”, Hermione pries. “He was a prat all through school. Please don’t let your little obsession take over your life again, Harry.” “Besides”, Ron adds, “Maybe he deserves a little punishment too after all these years.” “I wasn’t obsessed with Malfoy, I just, well never mind. The point is he doesn’t deserve Azkaban He saved my life too, remember? In the manor, he didn’t identify me but he looked right into my eyes. He knew.” “Yeah but you saved him too.” “And it most certainly was and it seems still an obsession.”, Ron and Hermione countered. Harry rolled his eyes, and once again stated, “I’m doing it.”   
In the end, there was no arguing with Harry when he got like this, especially not about anything concerning Malfoy. So, the trio spent the rest of the afternoon joking and telling stories. It was fun, but Harry caught the not so-subtle glances between Ron and Hermione. He knew that once again they were having worried conversations about him in hushed tones when they thought he wasn’t listening. He knew they’d always worry. He knew they probably should be worried. He just didn’t want to deal with any of that right now. At the moment he didn’t have to, it was getting close to dinner time and they decided to head back to the Burrow or else face the wrath of Molly Weasley.   
Dinner was delicious as always, and though a bit quieter than it should’ve been, it almost felt like old times. Afterwards, Harry helped with the dishes while Hermione and Ron cleared the table. Ginny and George went to the living room to play a round of exploding snap, that Ron joined soon after. After hugging all of the kids extra tight, Molly and Arthur went upstairs. Eventually, the living room started to empty too. Percy, George, Ginny each headed upstairs yawning, tired from full bellies of delicious food. Ron drifted off to sleep with his head in Hermione’s lap, she stroked his hair for a while before turning her eyes towards Harry. “Wanna take a walk?” He nodded as she got up carefully so not to wake Ron.   
The warm summer air felt amazing. It smelled like clean laundry outside and crickets chirped in the distance. It was a perfect night. Hermione wasted no time in questioning her best friend. “So what’s going on, Harry?” He tried to look nonchalantly confused. “Going on?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “What happened to you and Ginny? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you hiding something else from us. You were in George’s room a lot for a while. You two seemed rather close, and now you don’t. What’s all that about?” Harry struggled to find a good answer, but knew he wouldn’t be able to spin a believable enough story, so he sighed in defeat and told her everything.   
After finishing the story, he looked at Hermione to see her reaction. He hadn’t been able to look up from the ground the whole time he was telling it. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until she wrapped her arms around him tight. “Oh Harry. You’re so stupid sometimes. Don’t you know how much we love you. You can tell us anything. I wish you didn’t feel like you have to save everyone. Your job is done Harry. It’s over. It’s okay.” Harry only cried harder. He knew it could be okay at some point, but it wasn’t right now. He felt so good when he helped people, but afterwards, he felt used and alone. He told Hermione as much, and she gave him another tight hug. “It’s alright, you’ve got us. You’re not alone.” He took a few deep breaths and let Hermione’s words soothe him. They sat in silence for a while on a soft patch of grass. Suddenly he spoke again. “I have to help Malfoy though.” Hermione sighed, and said, “I know you do, Harry. I know.” Another quiet moment passed before Harry spoke again. “What do we do after the summer?” “I don’t know yet. We never did finish school, but I just don’t know.” Hermione worried her lip with her teeth. Harry was at a loss for words at the fact that not even she knew what to do next. He stood and held his hand out for Hermione. “Let’s go in.”   
They went inside, and Ron stirred. Hermione went and put a hand on his shoulder to wake him up. He groggily lifted pushed himself of the couch, patting Harry on the back as he drudged up the stairs, Hermione following closely behind him. Harry smiled, and laid down on the couch, suddenly not having the energy to even conquer the stairs.   
Instead of his usual nightmares, he dreamt of pale skin, delicate fingers, soft blonde hair, and a sneering voice. He awoke with a start and immediately sent Pig with a reply to Narcissa, letting her know he would be at the trials. He wouldn’t think about the dream though. He refused to analyze it in any way, shape, or form. It meant nothing. Just a dream, that’s all.


End file.
